It's Cecile, Not that Cecile, the other one
by Jane Doe1111
Summary: REVISED. Helga takes on her Cecile personality once more to confess her feelings to Arnold, but how does he respond?     Semi-epistolary.  Thanks for the reviews guys, as per your suggestions, I revisited this and fleshed it out a bit more. R&R 3
1. Prologue

I was so encouraged by your reviews of my other piece that I decided I'd try my hand at another one – this time slightly longer.

Have some more angst, I'm in an angsty mood. This picks up several years after the 'cecile' fiasco, I imagine the kids are between 15 and 18.

Disclaimer: I do not own "Hey! Arnold," it is the intellectual property of craig bartlett, and is owned by Nickelodeon. If I owned it, there would be a second movie. :-(

Here we go!

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From this perspective, everything looked so strange. It was like looking through a fish-eye lens. She could see the cobwebs that accumulated on the ceiling, and could barely see the nicks in the wooden floor. The extra distance even deadened the sound of the television in the living room, though not by much. Helga stood and took stock of what she was seeing, looking for anything left to hide or destroy.

She had taken her books of poetry and any loose incriminating papers to the roof and burned them. If it caught fire, it went on the pyre. Helga couldn't help but liken herself to Dido, collecting items for her love's funeral pyre, her love that still lived. The candles, wax, and gum had been smashed to an amorphous lump in the trash. The Christmas lights had been carefully and inconspicuously stored in the attic. Maybe Miriam had found her shrine when she was 9, but damned if anyone was going to find it now.

The only things that remained were the locket and his letters. She hadn't the heart to destroy the locket, and as for the letters, she couldn't decide whether to keep them or destroy them. In the end, she determined that no one would read them anyway, and kept them in a neat pile, in chronological order on her desk.

In her final survey of her room, she couldn't help but to wonder just how things had gotten to where they were, to how she went from her guarded fortress to this weak mess of rubble, with no salvation from the wrecking ball, and could only welcome it with open arms.

It had been those letters, and her disproved hypothesis. Those years ago, she thought she had made a connection to him, even though it had been through an alias, it had been the real her – or as close to 'real' as she could have come without being revealed. She thought first letter had started well, at least.

"_Dear Arnold, It's me, Cecile. Not 'that' Cecile, the other one." _

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End prologue.


	2. Letters

Chapter one, here we go! I'm trying to write this all at once, I know I hate it when I find a fic and it's not done, so I'm trying not to do that to you. Smooches.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hey! Arnold.

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"_Dear Arnold, _

_It's me, Cecile. Not that Cecile, the other one. It's been a pretty long time, n'est pas? I'm sorry I never wrote to you sooner, I was too scared and too unsure of how to proceed, that I just... never did. I know you've probably forgotten about me, but I could never forget you, you were so sweet that day, and no one has ever treated me so well. What you saw was the real me, the me I wish I could just show you, but I can't. I'm too scared of what might happen, but I still want you to 'know' the real me, even if the real name isn't attached. _

_I love writing, it's one of the only ways I really feel like I'm coherent. When I try to speak, I get nervous about what people will think, and then I second guess myself, and then everything I tried to say is ruined. But when I write, I can erase the wrong word, and take time to say what I think without worrying about what someone else will say about it. _

_What about you? Is there something that you do that sets your heart on fire? Please take your response to "Gerald Field," and put it under the pitcher's mound. Please don't try to find out who I am._

- "_Cecile"_

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_Hey Gerald,_

_I hope you're having a good time at your grandparents' house, I know it's been a while since you saw them, so I'm glad you're getting to see them now. At least you're missing school for this, right? _

_Something weird and... kind of cool happened. Remember 'Cecile'? Not my pen-pal, the other girl who I ended up taking out on Valentine's day. (What ever happened to you and the real Cecile anyway? You never did tell me..._

_Anyway, she wrote me a letter It was a little weird at first, but the more I read it, the more I'm intrigued. As soon as I saw the first sentence, all the memories came back. She told me all this stuff about herself. You know, from anyone else, it would be kind of creepy, but something about it was just. Sweet. I'm gonna see where this goes, I might even end up with a girlfriend out of all of this. _

_Phoebe's doing well, she's still stuck to Helga like a chick to its mother. How does she put up with her? I'd go crazy if I had to follow Helga around all day... Curly had another meltdown, I swear – that kid needs medication. Did anyone tell you about Rhonda and Harold? That was the shortest lived romance I've ever heard of. I guess she was hallucinating when she said yes to him. Eugene is in the hospital again. Slipped on the mystery meat and broke his forearm. I'll see you when you get back, man. _

_Arnold_

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_Dear Cecile,_

_I'm so happy you contacted me. Don't worry, I haven't forgotten you, it's actually the opposite really! I always wondered what happened to you, and where you went after we had dinner. It may sound cheesy, but I still have that sandal you left behind. _

_I want to see the real you too, I wish you weren't so scared of me finding out who you are. I had a really great time with you, and I hope we can do that again some day. _

_I'm not that great at writing, when it comes to writing fiction or poetry and stuff like that, I get tongue-tied whether I'm speaking or writing (Would that be 'finger-tied'?) What I'm really good at is figuring things out. Whether it's people's problems or puzzles, I always find myself in the middle of them, helping people figure them out. I guess that sounds kind of weird, but that's what always seems to happen. Once, a couple of friends and I managed to stop a huge corporation from bulldozing our neighborhood. I guess I just really like helping people. _

_So I guess you're not actually from France, and didn't grow up either in Paris or on a farm, so... tell me about that! I guess you know I live in a boarding house – I live with my grandparents. My parents are doctors in San Lorenzo. For the longest time, I had no idea where they were, I always thought they were dead, but I finally got to meet them. I wanted to stay with them in South America, but... my home is here. Sometimes, I still think of becoming a doctor or a scientist so I can go stay with them. I guess that goes along with the 'helping people' thing. I guess if that never happens ( my grades aren't that great,) I could always be a teacher. I've got kind of a dorky teacher now. We had him in elementary school too, but he got transferred to the older grades. His inspirational speeches were more useful for the high school crowd, I guess._

_I hope to hear from you soon._

_-Arnold _

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_Arnold,_

_I'm glad you wrote me back. I was starting to worry that I had come on too strongly. _

_I had a teacher like that when I was younger too. He always talked about how 'special' everyone was, and every lesson plan had to do with making sure we all felt special. In hindsight, I guess that was pretty cool of him, but at the time all I wanted to do was shove my foot in his mouth. I guess that's not the nicest thing in the world, but I never wanted to share my feelings with my classmates. They hated me – I didn't want to give them any more reason than they needed to mock me. _

_I think it's pretty cool that you want to be a doctor. I'm sure one of my friends is destined for that path too. She's book-brilliant, and has had straight A's since pre-school. I'm pretty sure she was the first one of all of us to figure out the ' color inside the lines' thing. She's my best friend, reminds me of my sister, but much less annoying. _

_My family life isn't... great. My father runs a very successful business, and is high on his own trip about it. I barely see him and when I do, he doesn't recognize me. My mother is an alcoholic. It makes me mad. If she would just get her life together, she could really be successful. My dad just keeps her down, God forbid she's ever more successful than him. My sister is perfect. There are just no other words. She's won competitions, received trophies, perfect attendance, perfect grades. She's just... perfect. My parents idolize her. I don't even know why they had me. Sometimes I wonder if I was just an accident... At least your parents sound nice, even if they were gone for most of your life. At least you could dream about how great they are, rather than be disappointed by the truth... Enough of that though! _

_You saved your neighborhood? That's pretty cool, how did you do that? That sounds like a great thing to do. Sounds like you're some kind of hero. _

_-'Cecile'_

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_Dear Gerald,_

_I miss you terribly! I can't wait for you to come home. All these strange things have been happening. Eugene went two days without an accident, Rhonda kissed Harold, and Mr. Simmons actually yelled at the class today. We all had papers to turn in and no one did it. I hope you're keeping up with the schoolwork while you're with your grandparents. I've been sending you all the assignments so you wont get so far behind. _

_Even Helga has been different. I'm not sure what it is, but she's been... nicer lately. Rhonda ran into her, and Helga helped her stand up. Harold tripped over her leg, and Helga apologized. She's even toned down torturing Arnold. She still calls him 'Arnoldo' from time to time, but it's a lot more friendly than it used to be. I know you're not her biggest fan, but she's my best friend, and deep down she's a really good person. It looks like shes starting to let everyone else know it now too. I think this is a good thing. I can't wait for you to come back and see it for yourself. _

_I love you sweetheart, and I can't wait to see you again. _

_-Phoebe_

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R&R

Smooches.


	3. So That's it

Mkay folks, get ready for some roller coasters.

Disclaimer: Hey Arnold = not mine.

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_Gerald,_

_Hey man, I'm sorry to hear about your Grandpa, hows your grandmother holding up? And your mom, for that matter. I guess you'll be up there for a little bit longer than planned? _

_I wish you were around, things are getting really weird. It's Helga, I'm actually...starting to like her. A couple weeks ago, she stopped torturing me, I don't know what I did, but I guess I did something right. She hasn't been throwing spitballs at me, or spraying water on me, or anything like that. She actually gave me the last tapioca pudding the other day. I thought she spat in it or something, but she was actually just... doing something nice. I don't really know what it is, but there's something about her that keeps drawing me to her. I guess she doesn't hate me anymore, but I have no idea if she... actually likes me. You know, 'LIKES' likes... I always knew that she wasn't as awful as she kept making herself out to be, but now I'm actually seeing what she's like for real. _

_But I still have this Cecile thing to deal with... at first it was sweet, but now it's starting to get a little weird and creepy. I used to love the anonymity of it all, but now I'm starting to feel like she's stalking me. She knows things about me that... she really shouldn't. I never told it to her, and I have no idea who she 'really' is. I feel like I have to keep watching my back, looking to see if she's standing there ready to kill me or something. I think I'm going to have to cut this off, before I end up in her trunk. _

_I'll see you around man, and once again, I'm so sorry for your loss. _

_-Arnold_

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_Dearest Arnold, _

_I hardly know how to begin this letter. I feel we've grown so close over these few weeks. I have never been so open with anyone before in my life. For all my life, I have longed for your companionship. You're always so kind, it's something I've admired about you for years. You... might even say that I love you. You have no idea how hard that was to write, I only wish I could say it to you in person. I began writing to you in hopes that... having you know 'me' would make you feel the same way about me that I do about you. On paper, I suppose that sounds strange. I suppose this is the one instance where I can't sound eloquent. The more I write, the more awkward it all sounds... _

_I suppose my question is... do you feel the same?My life would be complete if you were in love with me, but I know that takes time, and I would still be over the moon if you at least... liked me. So.. what's your answer?_

_-'Cecile.'_

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_Cecile,_

_I'm sorry, this is getting to be too much for me. First, I was moved that you wanted to contact me after all this time, but now it's verging on the uncomfortable. You know where I live, you say you've loved me for all your life, and I don't even know who you are. If you were someone I've known for all my life, I would have recognized you all those years ago. If anything you've told me in these past weeks was true, I would think I would have figured it out, but you don't sound like anyone I know, and I'm uncomfortable talking to someone who is so clearly stalking me. It's not fair that you know so much about me, and that after all this, I apparently still know so little about you. I'm sorry, I won't be writing you any more letters._

_-Arnold_

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Almost done, lovelies.

R&R

smooches


	4. The Final Letter

Mkay, last chapter. Get the tissues, the real angst begins here.

Disclaimer: HeyArnoldisnotminegoaway

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_Dear Gerald,_

_I wish I could be with you right now, I know how much your grandfather meant to you, I can't begin to fathom the pain you're in. Mr. Simmons told me that you don't need to worry about getting your work in this week, he understands entirely and sends his condolences. _

_Things are really quiet now, I'm worried. It's like the calm before the storm. Something happened to Helga, I have no idea what happened. Things were going so well – she was nice, she was happy... Really happy. Now she's just... listless. She won't tell me anything. She's acting as if she doesn't recognize that people are around her. She goes to class, sits down, and stares at the floor. She goes to the lunch room, sits and doesn't say anything. Even her bow is gone. Arnold has been trying to help her, he volunteered to work with her on that history project, and tried to get her to talk during the whole period, but she just kept staring at the floor. During lunch, I heard her mumbling something. She was saying 'I dont like this... I don't want to feel this... I dont want to feel.' over and over and over... This has been going on for a few days... It's like the fire that was in her just. Went out. I don't know what to do, I just wish you were here._

_-Phoebe _

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_Dearest Arnold,_

_Please forgive me, I never meant to make you uncomfortable. In retrospect, I understand your reaction. I have never felt more alive in these few weeks than I have in my life, and I have you to thank for that. My life was empty before you, you showed me that first bit of kindness over ten years ago and after that I was alive. While most people saw 7 colors, I saw 700, where most heard silence, I heard music, and where most felt joy, I felt ecstasy. I had to defend this fire you gave me, I was certain the others would see it and put it out and I would be left alone again. _

_Every word I told you was true. My father is virtually absent, and constantly confuses me for my sister. My mother is an alcoholic who barely remembers her own name. My sister is a perfectionist who can't help but make me miserable. My fondest dream was to get out of here, and become president – maybe then I could make sure that nothing like what happened to me happen to anyone else... with you by my side. Truth be told I have never had any friends. Any time someone tries to get close to me, I push them away so hard that I bruise them... you would know. _

_All I ever wanted was for you to love me, to feel a fraction of what I felt for you. I always knew it was too much to ask, but I wanted it to be true. _

_You don't need to worry, you won't hear from me again. No one will. I just... can't anymore._

_- 'Cecile'_

_p.s. I'm sorry about all the spitballs, Football head. _

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_Dear Diary,_

_Eleanor came for a visit! It's been so long since she's come for tea, but she didn't want tea today. Poor thing looked distraught, I don't think Teddy treats her well... She just said she had a letter for Arnold. I don't think we have an Arnold here, so I just told her to put it in Kimba's room. Poor Kimba thinks he's being hunted, I keep telling him that I won't let anything happen to him, but I don't think the poor dear has slept in a few days. It's a good thing that I went in his room to tidy up beforehand. Kimba doesn't like his things touched, but I just wanted to do something nice for him. He had all these papers on his desk, so I threw them out, lots of silly letters from a French girl. Eleanor looked sad when she saw the letters in the garbage, should have given them to her – she would have gotten a laugh out of them. _

_The herd is coming back for the cattle drive, need to go hunting for dinner. Water buffalo burgers tonight! _

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_Phoebe,_

_I'm sorry. I just can't do this anymore. I re-adopted 'Cecile' and tried to get Arnold to get to know me. He liked me before as Cecile, so I thought he would now. He doesn't. He got to know me, the real me, and still hates me. Before, I could at least believe that it was because I teased him so mercilessly. I don't have that now. I don't even have the barriers I used to. I have nothing now, I hope you understand. You were my only friend, and I can't bring you down into this. I'm so sorry._

_- Helga_

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I just write the cheeriest stuff, don't I?

R&R

smooches


	5. Epilogue

Epilogue.

Here we go, last one. Enjoy.

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Arnold came home from school mentally and physically exhausted. He had spent so much time worrying about the 'Cecile' situation that he barely slept, half expecting to see her out of the corner of his eye. He had wracked his brain hundreds of times over. Who had she been? Who was this girl who could have known him for that long, yet he knew nothing of her at all? He flopped down on his bed and almost missed the crinkle of paper. Confused, he rolled over and saw the familiar envelope marked 'Arnold' on his pillow. His heart stopped short. She had been in his room... He slowly opened the letter and read its contents, half expecting a threat on his life. What he read made his blood run cold. When he read the final line, the final 'click' of all the pieces coming together in his mind was almost audible. He said one word, "Helga..." and bolted out the door.

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Everything was done. Her final letters were delivered, her things were organized; a section for Good-Will, a section for Phoebe, and a section for Bob and Miriam to do whatever they damn well pleased. All that was left was the locket and the letters. From this perspective, everything looked so different...

She picked up the ribbon from where it fell when she read Arnold's letter, and stood on her chair. "Symbolic, I guess... heh." She tied one end to the ceiling light, and one end around her neck. She took one last breath, and knocked over the chair. As her body struggled to breathe, the colors changed. The blue of her walls turned white, and the gold hearts turned to bursts of color. As everything faded to black, Helga thought she saw the door burst open and heard an angelic voice scream her name in horror.

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A strong hand grasped Arnold's shoulders and gently shook him awake. "C'mon man, wake up." Gerald stood tall beside Phoebe, arm around her shoulders. "We brought you a change of clothes."

Arnold looked up at him, bleary eyed, not recognizing his surroundings. The gentle "beep... beep... beep" in the background reminded him. Helga was lying in the bed in front of him in a coma. She had been there for a week. "Hey Gerald..." he said weakly, "welcome back." He turned back to watch her for any signs of consciousness, his hands wrapped around hers.

"Yeah, some welcome. You look like shit." Gerald's frank words woke him up to his situation. Since Helga had... done what she did, Arnold had not left her side. He untied her from the ceiling fan and placed her on the floor while he called an ambulance. He had ridden with her, her parents were unwilling or unable. He cursed himself the entire time, how could he not have seen it? How could he have been so blind that he hadn't seen Helga for what she was, for not recognizing her that night, and for not understanding that the situations that she described and the situations that were rumored about Helga were one in the same? He hated himself for his ignorance that had nearly cost him the life of one of his dearest friends.

He hadn't left the hospital since she was admitted. When the doctors came to do rounds, he hid in the bathroom, and only left her side when absolutely necessary. A nurse took pity on him and brought him food from time to time, but although grateful, he rarely ate it. Gerald was right, he hadn't showered for a week, barely slept, and looked like shit.

"Arnold, you should go home." Gerald's eyes bore holes into Arnold's back as he turned away from his friends. Phoebe stepped forward, gently touched his shoulder, and pleaded with him.

"Please, Arnold. She wouldn't want you to see her like this. She's in good hands here. It's not healthy for you to be here right now." Her eyes were bloodshot. She had cried a great deal. Arnold had not cried yet, he was still far too scared. She looked so frail in the hospital bed, Arnold was afraid that if he so much as breathed the wrong way, he would break her even more. He stood to make his point, to say some grand speech about how he had not been there for her before, and wasn't going to leave her now, when the floor came up towards him.

Gerald caught his weak friend and helped carry him out. Phoebe gave one last tearful look at her friend before walking away.

As the door closed, Helga's eyes fluttered open. As she looked around at the white room, hearing the gentle beeps of the machines, she started to sob. She had failed once again. As she pondered the long list of her failures, her eyes drifted to a vase of white roses with red tips and a piece of paper on the nightstand. As she picked it up, her heart stopped as she recognized the familiar hand writing.

"_To Cecile"_

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That's it, please let me know whatcha think!

Smooches.


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